


Study and Practice

by wakandan_wardog



Series: The Theory Of Magic [2]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, Original Character(s), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Prompt Fill, Snark, Stephen Strange Has a Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-17 20:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakandan_wardog/pseuds/wakandan_wardog
Summary: Stephen brings Tony to Kamar-Taj, Tony gets to sit in on training with the Sorcerers. Teaching looks good on Stephen.(Prompted for a story with Tony watching Stephen training at Kamar-Taj and falling more than a little in love with him.Note there is an OC Magic student talking to Tony in this fic. Her name is Jesra Cifera and while not Marvel Canon she's pretty kickass.)





	1. Chapter 1

Once they’ve had tea and moved on from discussions about the stone to the business at hand, time seems to pass swiftly. As they work Wong seems to drift in and out, occasionally bringing texts that Stephen either didn’t think to consult or didn’t know the existence of in the first place. Now and again Stephen will reach for something, realize it’s not within the room, and have to open a portal to fetch it.

Tony finds himself viewing the gesture with increasing fondness, just shaking his head as the Sorcerer disappears an entire arm or sometimes part of his torso as he reaches through the ring to fetch the book in question. He’s not quite to the point where he’ll willingly reach into one, but seeing the Sorcerer work with them so casually certainly helps ease some lingering fears. Eventually, it gets to the point where Stephen calls up a portal within inches of the billionaire, leaning his head and torso through as he hisses uncomplimentary things about students that put texts away in the wrong place.

Tony watches the whole spectacle and laughs, his brown eyes bright gold with humor. Returning to this side of the portal, Strange gives a half-grin and a faint shrug.

“Faster than walking to the Library.” He argues lightly.

“Wait, you could have just walked?” Tony blinks at him in surprise, then gives another laugh and a shake of his head. “Unbelievable.”

"Trust me, it’s the most efficient use of time.” Strange replies with a haughty sniff, purposefully ignoring the muffled laughter it garners and paging through the text to reference a technique. “If you’ve quite finished, I was thinking something along these lines?”

“More of your glow in the dark tripwires?” Tony hums, leaning into his space.

“Crimson Bands of the Cyttorak are hardly ‘glow in the dark trip wires’, Tony.” Strange sighed, giving him an exasperated glance. “They’re a highly advanced magical technique.”

“Right, I can certainly see how that would be the case but I had no clue what they were called… and magic bondage gear just didn’t set the right tone.” Tony replies innocently, reaching for one of the books and pulling it over to give it a glance. “Highly advanced or no… But, you do you, Merlin.”

Wong laughs from the corner of the room, shrugging when Stephen glares at him for it. “Sorry, was just funny… Anyway, I am heading down for my class, and then it will be your turn, Strange.”

“Yes, thank you,” Stephen mutters sharply, waving out the Master of Hong Kong when the man lingers to grin at him.

Wong makes a flurry of gestures, taps his hand, and points at the billionaire with an inquiring look. Strange retaliates with a few gestures of his own hand, keeping them hip high and masked by the table before he jerks his chin toward the door in an effort to encourage the other Sorcerer to leave. At his back Tony seems to give no notice, buckling down to work and sliding lists and diagrams of potential traps and defenses this way and that.

Wong eventually gives up, rolling his eyes and closing the door behind him.

“Your buddy leave us?” Tony mumbles as he cards through files and scribbles down notes on an offset piece of paper.

“Wong is due in the courtyard for training some of the novices that are hoping to graduate to disciple rank.” Stephen sighs. “Are you still working on potential team constructs?”

“Considering we haven’t solved it yet, yes, I am still working on them.” Tony snarks. “Hey, Strange. Remind me again why you don’t have more than a fancy coat to help us save the world?”

“You can complain all you want, you still can’t have the Cloak.”

“Anything sportier? A magical top hat, perhaps? Oh, or a carpet bag?”

“Can we set aside the cliché magical references, please?”

“I’d love to, why, do you have to leave?” Tony retorts in an innocent tone.

“You’re hilarious.” The Sorcerer replies in his driest tone. Though truth be told, Stephen’s amused in spite of himself. It’s clearly going to be a long day.

 

*

Tony has all but forgotten the reasons that brought him to Kamar-Taj in the first place, by the time they choose to reassert themselves. He and Stephen and hunched over one of the Sorcerer’s tables, with documents scattered to one side and projection cubes showing various data and stats that hang in the air like phantoms to the other. Strange, for his part, seems more than content with allowing Tony to share his point of view as they attempt to sort their current assets into working teams. The challenge is to create two or more teams with equal amounts of experience, raw or undertrained talent, and field evaluation.

So far, things keep leaning toward unbalanced... But Stephen has a suggestion he’s not quite sure how to bring forward. It helps balance things out, slightly, but he hasn’t gotten enough of a read on Tony to determine how the billionaire would respond to the suggestion that he continues to stay apart from his former teammates. Just as he’s about to open his mouth and try to phrase it anyway, the Cloak of Levitation sweeps into the room with an impatient flutter.

“Oh.” Strange sighs, feeling a hint of disappointment bloom in his belly as he glances down at Tony. By this point the billionaire has half-tucked himself between Stephen and the table, so he can continue to draft potential lists and the Sorcerer can read the proposed team list over his shoulder. This close, Stephen can smell the rich note of Tony’s cologne and feel the warmth of him. It’s more tempting than any one man has the right to be. “That time, then.”

“Hmmm?” Tony murmurs, turning and glancing up at him questioningly.

With how close they’ve drifted, Stephen has to work hard not to exhale his shock directly into the shorter man’s mouth. Tony is incredibly near, practically in the curl of Stephen’s arm and nearly back to chest, his rich brown eyes going amber in the drifting afternoon light. Stephen drops his gaze from Tony’s eyes to his lips, then drags it back up again, swallowing thickly.

“My class will be starting shortly.” He explains in a low voice. “Do you still wish to watch?”

Thick lashes drift down, obscure rich brown eyes for a moment before fluttering open again. “Are you sure I won’t be an imposition?”

“Positive,” Stephen affirms, still keeping his tone pitched to just above a whisper between them. It makes Tony sway into him slightly, and he finds he doesn’t mind in the slightest. Wishes the billionaire would lean in, press close chest-to-chest. “I’d… enjoy it if you attended the class, Tony.”

Tony smiles, a wicked curl of mouth, before he licks his lips and gives a faint nod. “Alright then. Class. Should be fun.”

Stephen swallows, barely manages a nod and steps back before he does something foolish. “Yes, it should be.”

In the corner of the room, the Cloak of Levitation shakes its collar gravely at him and sweeps back out the door. Honestly, Stephen needs some new friends.

“Well, we had best be going, then.” Stephen murmurs and leads Tony out of the room and down the hall. He'll talk to the Cloak later.

 

*


	2. Chapter 2

The Courtyard at Kamar-Taj has gained even more students since the last time Tony glanced through the window. The soft mix of sand and gravel at one end gives way to ancient paving stones at the other, wrapping around the edges of a small series of steps that lead to a raised platform. There are no chairs in sight, but traditional benches are scattered around the edges of the open area, and the low wall that frames the open space certainly lend themselves for such purposes.

Everywhere he looks there are Magicians of one rank or another, clearly from a hundred different backgrounds. All ages, all body types, all nationalities are present here, separated by their amount of practice and mastery over their skill sets. But there is a cohesion to the ranks, a unity through their similar garb. It isn’t quite a uniform, as there are varying styles of tunic ranging from sleeveless to long-sleeved, but they’re still very similar in style. In his stripped-down suit, Tony can’t help but stand out.

The novices wear looser tunics, soft shades of green and a little gray. Though they are not part of this class, there is a cluster of them sitting or leaning on a short series of steps at the far wall of the courtyard. They drink from stoneware cups and talk quietly, and it is clear they intend to watch. Mixed in the group are apprentices, easy to distinguish from the lowest rank as they wear shades of white, their tunics more fitted and usually sleeveless. Most of them still wear the wrappings on their forearms indicating their session just recently finished.

For the most part, the majority of students that stand in the courtyard are wearing the burgundy color of the disciples. They’re gathered in small groups of two or three, but several of them turn and nod a greeting to Stephen as he leads Tony down the stairs. Stephen, the only one wearing midnight blue, is the only Master present. He returns their nod but rests a hand at the base of Tony’s spine, escorting him over to the mixed group of students on the steps.

“You can watch from here if you still wish to.” Stephen murmurs gently, not quite ready to surrender his light hold on the other man.

“Sounds great.” Tony smiles up at him and gives a gentle nudge when Strange seems reluctant to depart. “Go on then, Sorcerer Supreme… Your students are waiting.”

Stephen sighs, giving the infuriating man a faint smile. “Try to behave yourself, Tony?”

“No promises, Doctor.” Tony retorts in a purring tone, flapping one hand dismissively. “On your way, now.”

Stephen wants to charge someone with his care, but Wong is nowhere in sight and there’s a certain reluctance to even tangentially give one of the students a claim to the billionaire. Instead, Stephen gives another weary sigh and gently nudges Tony toward the steps. “Sit, behave. I have to concentrate, and I can’t have you making trouble.”

“Yes Sir, Sorcerer Supreme.” Tony tosses over his shoulder with a faint smirk and climbs up the three low steps to an empty section of stone.

While most of the others are gathered on the lower steps, the platform itself, or the far end of the space, there’s one burgundy-clad disciple sprawled nearby. The lean-bodied brunette woman doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to the group gossiping over her shoulder, gazing toward the far side of the courtyard where the new students are gathering. She stretches across the varying steps, her hips braced on the second, booted heels stretched down to the courtyard itself, elbows braced on the raised platform that the steps lead to. Hair dark and shorn short, the bangs obscure her eyes when Tony glances at her.

“Excuse me?” He murmurs, ignoring how he can hear Stephen calling the class to order from the far side of the courtyard. “Mind if I join you?”

The disciple tilts her head back, brown eyes speculative, then waves a graceful hand to the stretch of stone beside her. “Please, pull up a rock. A friend of Master Strange, I take it?”

“Work colleague,” Tony replies airily, settling himself on the platform with his heels braced on a lower step. He offers his hand to shake, because why not? “Tony. You not part of this group?”

“Jesra.” She returns neutrally, shaking his hand in a professional manner and then releasing him. “I train with Wong, for the most part. I was in the morning class.”

“Here to spectate?”

“The Master of New York is an interesting success story.” Jesra shrugs. “The fact that he’s the youngest and the most handsome Master here is, a bonus, one might say.”

“Only if one has exceptionally good tastes.” Tony teases, turning his eyes to the group of students that stand arranged before Stephen.

“Guess I must then, hmm?” Jesra barks a laugh as Tony considers the group.

There are at least twenty of the students, arranged into four rows and slowly drawing back up to height as they finish a few stretches. Tony and the others gathered around the courtyard settle and go quiet to speculate, their attention focusing on the Sorcerer Supreme. Stephen stands at the head of the group, sweeping his gaze over them all before he gives a firm nod. His hands snap out, arms extended, and he begins the set.

Tony jumps as light flares, golden sparks appearing in a straight line as the students start with their hands outstretched in front of them and then raise one while lowering the other. The movement is fluid, sparks expanding into a thick center line that turns into a triple concentric circle as each student spins their hands around the focus line and drafts a shield into shape. Characters in an unknown language spring into being, hovering between the lines of the circles. Each student pulls one hand back and falls back on the same heel, sliding into a defensive position as the shield separates into several tiers of light. The next moment they stand and make sharp motions with their arms, breaking the spell and sending the light flickering into scattered embers.

Stephen looks proud, nodding at them all, then steps down from the dais like he intends to walk through the ranks. “Again, please.”

And so it begins again.

This time, as the students begin, Stephen winds through their number. He lifts an elbow here, helps a different adjust their stance there. Tony can’t hear what he says as he moves through the group, the rhythmic chant of the class drowning out his soft words. Still, his expression is smooth and kind, scarred hands bared as he helps those around him.

Tony can see how the scars would be an encouragement to the group, but he also notes that Stephen is comfortable enough to show them in the first place. When he’d seen the Sorcerer in New York, Stephen frequently wore tan gloves to hide the scars. The Sorcerer was careful about his image, the Cloak and distant demeanor and strange tunic certainly adding to his mystique.

Here he as among his people, or what had become his people, at least. Here he trained, smiled, gently coached the students through various techniques. Sometimes he pulled one to the side to illustrate an alternate technique, his gestures confident and graceful. There were even two or three he pulled away and sparred with, stripping out of layers until only a sleeveless tunic remained and a golden rope appeared stretched taut between his two hands.

“Ready?” Stephen asked the pair, receiving sharp nods in return.

Tony leaned forward, helplessly intrigued.

The Sorcerer leaped forward, hand lashing out, the line of light wielded like a whip. The first student leaped back, falling into the pose that the majority of the class had adopted, shields snapping into place for each hand. The second seemed to replicate Strange’s technique, spinning light in connected threads between both hands and twisting them into a solid line she used to catch and parry the snap of Stephen’s attacks. A moment later she fell back and the man stepped forward, shielding with the classic circles Tony had seen Strange use in combat and in the training environment.

“Shields of the Seraphim,” Jesra confirmed.

“The double set?” Tony questioned without turning.

“Mmm.” She hummed an assent, still calmly stretched out on the steps.

“The other?”

“A Strange special,” Jesra admitted ruefully. “Don’t know if he’s named it yet. It’s a bit like Bolts of Balthakk if you wanted to hold onto them instead of firing them at an opponent, which I honestly didn’t think is possible. But Mordo used to train using at least two relics, and to stand against him that required some ingenuity. Strange clearly has it in spades, along with loyalty.”

Tony tilts his head at the soft bitterness in her tone, knowing better than to ask or pull his eyes away from where Stephen is praising the pair of students and returning them to the group. “Not as common a trait as we would like.”

“Not really something you teach,” Jesra said. “Leastways, not of someone doesn’t want to learn.”

“Sometimes you have to live through the really sucky teams to get to the good ones.” Tony offers, grinning as Strange dismissed the class and paced toward them. “Keep your chin up, kid, it gets better.”

Jesra watched him rise in amusement, shaking her head as he bolted back to Strange’s side. “Yeah, I guess you would know, huh?”

 

*

Tony beamed as he halted in front of Strange, noting the sweat darkening the neckline of his tunic and beading along his brow. “My, you look like you’ve been worked over.”

Stephen canted his head slightly, humor drifting over his expression. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m trying.” Tony sighed dramatically. “Back to the office?”

“A trip to the shower for me, but yes.” Strange agreed, leading him back toward the halls with a guiding hand. “I’ll arrange for lunch as well, shall I?”

“Wow... not sure if I can concentrate with a visual like that.” Tony sighed. “But I suppose I’ll try while I wait for you to return. But yeah, lunch would be good.”

Helplessly charmed, Stephen smiled. “Alright… good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesra is an OC inspired by a friend of mine. I bring her in as a student in Kamar-Taj in another fic also, and it might become a trend. So, wave when you see her, I guess!


End file.
